


Two halves of one whole

by curiosa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, everybody loves Scott McCall, possession theories, sort of episode coda, where did this go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiosa/pseuds/curiosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott's not moved from his bed for what feels like hours, long enough for his thighs to start to cramp up, his ass to feel numb and his legs to feel like they're solidly stuck to the carpet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two halves of one whole

**Author's Note:**

> This will all get jossed as soon as the rest of season three airs, but ever since Monday's episode I've had this scene just stuck in my head waiting to get out of there. I have all of the Scott/Stiles feels this 3B season and I honestly can't get enough of it.

Scott's not moved from his bed for what feels like hours, long enough for his thighs to start to cramp up, his ass to feel numb and his legs to feel like they're solidly stuck to the carpet. He twists with a loud and audible crack to his back and tries to ignore the sudden flow of blood to all of the parts of him that are once again moving, limbs filling with the sensation of pins and needles as he shifts uncomfortably jostling Stiles who's as still as anything beside him. For a second Scott thinks he's gotten away with not waking him, his friend's skin pale and bruised a dark blue with shadows from too many hours not sleeping, but right as he shifts away Stiles moves to follow him like a shadow, half asleep, eyes blinking in the dim light as he comes to and realises that he's awake once again.

“Scott?” His voice comes out with a crack in the middle, breath thready in a way that makes Scott hurt in his chest, burrowing under his ribcage as Stiles' eyes slowly widen.

Scott breathes deep and tries to put a smile on his face. A really sad attempt to try and keep everything normal. “Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”

Stiles shuffles trying to sit up, long fingers coming up to scrub at his eyes, rubbing his face against his shoulder. “How long have I been out for?”

Scott shrugs like it doesn't matter. Not long enough, he thinks, or too long maybe? He doesn't admit that he's been counting down every single minute, keeping watch and refusing to leave his side in case Stiles woke up and needed him. Keeping watch just in case he didn't.

“What happened?”

“We found you.” Scott shifts so that he's facing Stiles. “Do you remember anything?” Stiles shakes his head slowly and Scott breathes a sigh of relief. His mom has already filled him in on his hospital visit, the not sleeping, hallucinations and blackouts.

When they'd finally found Stiles after endless phone call that got stranger and stranger, he'd been covered in blood, hands shaking and on the verge of a panic attack unable to answer anyone’s questions. Lydia couldn't sense death on him, just around him, at least that's what she'd told Scott in a tight whisper right after they'd finally managed to put a stop to Stiles' screaming, but she'd still looked at him for an answer, because if the blood didn't belong to Stiles and she couldn't sense death, then who the hell's was it?

“My Dad? He'll be- ” 

Scott places a strong hand on Stiles' chest, pushing him back firmly down into the soft cocoon of his pillows. “He's right here, everyone is. They all think you're just resting. Which you should be.”

They'd taken him back to Scott's house, his mom taking steady control and only looking worried as all hell for just a single split second. Nurse and supernatural being mother's training kicking into action as she coaxed Stiles into cleaning up with a soft and steady voice, replacing his clothes with some of Scott's spare clean ones and then suggesting that he get some rest in Scott's bedroom. Leaving him with Scott to get some much needed sleep as she left to contact the sheriff.

From that point on Scott had refused to leave Stiles' side even for a second, even when the sheriff came in and sat silently, watching for hours until he'd started to fall asleep himself and Melissa had insisted he take a break, glaring pointedly at Scott who'd steadfastly chosen to ignore her. As if he knew deep down that if he just took his eyes away for a moment, whatever it was that had a hold of Stiles could come back to claim him.

Stiles nods and Scott relaxes to hear his heart beat start to slow down and remain at a steady beat once again, far from the erratic thud that had been all Scott could hear when they'd found him, pounding against his ribcage and the pads of Scott's fingers.

“The dark,” Stiles says nervous and Scott leans forward to flip on his bedside light switch. It's not much, just a warm glow that flows and spreads between the two of them, casting Stiles' skin in a golden light and highlighting the way his skin seems too tight and to stretch waxy against his bones these days, but Stiles looks more content now, allowing his head to sink back down into the pillows. 

As Scott shifts to get more comfortable and allow Stiles more room, Stiles' hand suddenly moves, reaching out to curve around Scott's jaw line, fingers shifting to run up his cheek and behind his ear, softly tracing the faint marking of the oni. “You've been marked.” Stiles says, letting his hand drop back down onto the bed covers.

“Kira too,” Scott says and at Stiles' shifting goes, “She's a kitsune, but a good one. Allison found out that the oni are looking for something. They're searching.” Kira was waiting in the living room now, had insisted on staying to help in way that she could once she'd found about Stiles and her own involvement in the supernatural that this town seemed to be a beacon for.

“Something or someone?” Scott shrugs. Stiles has always been the perceptive one. The one to put two and two together. He can easily tell when Scott's purposely avoiding saying something out loud.

“Maybe someone. They're looking for a dark spirit.”

“They thought that maybe one of you was like possessed?”

Stiles sucks in a breath and in a flash of his eyes Scott gets a glimpse of everything he's just been through. Sees all over again what it's like to be faced with losing his best friend. He thinks of the chemistry room and the key, how sure Stiles had been at his involvement. Stiles mentioning to his mom about having blackouts. 

“I spoke to Deaton,” Scott says, watching as Stiles' fingers wrap tightly around the covers. His knuckles turning white against the sheets. “What we did with the nemeton.” 

“Do you think we brought something back with us?”

The truth is it could have been any one of them. Stiles, Scott or Allison. Allison had even said so herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as if she couldn't get any warmth back into them. If something had in fact travelled back from their journey to the nemeton. If between the three of them they had allowed whatever was out there lurking in the dark to take its place. To take over Stiles maybe?

“Scott?”

Scott doesn't know what to say. Deaton hadn't said the nemeton was the definite cause but then in typical Deaton style he hadn't really provided them with any other concrete theories or answers. Just more and more questions.

“That something piggybacked along with me and now it's trying to get inside my head. Take over?” 

Stiles has his hands wrapped around his head now, covers pulled back to pool around his legs as he tries to get back up on his knees, scrabble his way out of there as fast as possible.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Scott shushes him, stretching up to pull Stiles' hands down from around his head. Wrapping his own hands tight around his wrists. “Look at me, Stiles. Look at me.”

Stiles stills, eyes wide and dark, the pupils blown out as he focuses back on Scott.

“That's not what anyone is saying. That's not what I'm saying.” He curls his hands around Stiles' shoulders, fingers digging in until it hurts, until he can grab a hold of Stiles' attention properly. “Remember when we were at the motel?” He asks. Stiles is looking at him but it's like he's not there once again, lost inside his own thoughts maybe or somebody else's. “Remember when I had the fire lighter in my hand and I was going to-” Stiles eyes flick towards him and he nods, his chin coming down to touch his chest. “You said it wasn't me, right? You said that it was something inside of my head, a voice telling me to do that. Remember, Stiles? Do you remember?”

Stiles nods. “If something is-” Scott swallows. “If something is trying to possess you then I'm just not going to let it.” At that Stiles lets out a bark of absurd laughter, the sound light and airy and completely out of place in the small room between them. In return Scott feels a fuzzy smile slide into place across his own face.

Stiles looks at him, skin pale and eyes watering, cheeks flushed from where his own hands have tried to claw at his own face. The skin on his lips is dry, deep red cracks breaking across the skin as his tongue comes out to dart across his lower lip.

“You really think you can do that?”

Scott agrees with a determined nod. “Nobody will let this thing take over. Allison, your dad, Isaac, Lydia, hell even Derek. They're all out there doing everything they can to find out what we need to do to make this stop.”

“Scott-”

“You and me, right. That's what this all comes down to. You wouldn't let me throw down that fire lighter and there's no way I'm going to let you lay down for this thing either. Stilinski and McCall, Stiles and Scott. There's no one without the other. That's what we had before any of this supernatural business took over.”

Stiles nods, shivering as he settles back down, limbs heavy against the bedspread, eyes never leaving the familiar comfort of Scott's face. 

“I don't know what to do.” Stiles admits and Scott moves to roll across the bed so that they're laying down side by side of each other like when they were kids. His best friend is shivering and he presses his body closer, trying to provide him with the warmth and comfort he knows he needs. 

“We'll work it out.” Scott reassures him. “Just like we always do, right?” 

“Right.”

Stiles settles beside him, not quite content to fall asleep, but secure in the knowledge that Scott will keep him safe for the mean time, until between the lot of them they can figure something out. The two of them side by side like any of the amount of sleepovers they've had in the past, back when they were little. The ones like after Scott's dad had left and the only thing to keep his mind off his dad leaving him had been Stiles' stupid sense of humour, the way he'd been able to snort out chocolate milk through his nose. The ones that for weeks after his mom had died and his dad, struggling to cope, would pack Stiles off for the night with Scott and Melissa, his mom baking cookies that she'd hand out still warm and soft in the middle, oozing out drops of chocolate until their fingers were thick and sticky. Scott always waking up to find that Stiles had rolled over during the night to wrap his body around any inch of Scott he could get to. As if being in contact with Scott had been the only way he could soundly get some sleep. The sound of Stiles' soft snuffling against his neck waking him up in the morning. 

Just when Scott's about to drop off himself and he thinks Stiles has finally settled back down to sleep he speaks up again. “Do you really think I'm capable of-?” He doesn't finish the sentence, just lets the words settle heavy in to the silence between them.

Scott thinks about when Stiles had admitted his knowledge of the key and his involvement in Barrow's attempt to kidnap and kill Kira. How he'd 100% believed in Stiles' belief and determination but not the fact that his best friend could have anything to do with the mess in the first place. How when they were five or six years old his dad had taken them both riverboat fishing, only to release every single fish they'd successfully caught back into the river as Stiles had started crying at how unfair it was to be ripping the fish away from their homes and their families. 

How when it came down to it Scott had just two constants in his life, his mom and the boy laying across from him.

It doesn't even take a beat. “I think you're strong Stiles. Stronger than you think you are. That you're capable of fighting this thing and I'll do whatever it takes to help you beat this. If anything even tries to take you down it's going to have to deal with taking me down first.”

“Thanks, Scott.” Stiles says, his voice a slur as the tiredness once again begins to crawl over him. Pressing in closer as Scott shifts so that Stiles can fill up any leftover empty space between them.


End file.
